I Do Believe in Fairies

My oldest daughter believes in fairies. She is seven (well almost seven and a half- the half is very precise and important so we can’t forget to mention it). Seven years old is starting to seem very grown up in several ways, especially being the older sister to a four year old brother and one year old sister. But not grown up enough to let go of this bit of magic. 

I would venture to say most little girls enjoy the idea of fairies and assume them to be real. But in our case we have a set of imaginary fairies who frequent our backyard. They leave proof of their visits in the form of little notes and gifts exchanged with my daughter in a fairy house she has set up for them on the porch. 

This all started a little over 3 years ago. I came home from work to see that the babysitter had written a little note and signed it from the fairies. That was it. They were real. My daughter latched on to this fantasy with the fierce grip only a 4 year old can master. 

We looked for notes daily and saved them in a special folder. She decorated their house and yard. She created furniture and a swing for them. She drew pictures of them and for them. Sometimes we wrote notes back. 

Quick sidenote: she was not able to read or write yet at the time. I was writing notes to and from myself and reading them aloud to someone who had complete trust in what I was translating. The in depth irony of this situation is not lost on me.

It became an adorable obsession. And quite honestly, for me, a bit of a burden. It was not at all unlike the Elf on the Shelf. (In fact this might be the reason we will never have an Elf in our house.) 

I would forget to check the note and take it out. I would forget to write one back, or write a quick one that I knew wasn’t truly satisfactory. I could see the disappointment in her face. Sometimes I would distract her from going out on the porch to check the fairy house. I would send her back upstairs to get something and then quickly swap the notes. 

One time she just barely caught me and I had to lie and say I was checking for a note (because how could I say that I was actually the one putting the note in?!) and she yelled at me for it. Devastated that I was imposing on her magical exchange. I might as well have unwrapped one of her Christmas presents. 

And this is where I really started to worry. Because how could I explain that it has been me the whole time? That this magic she believes in so wholeheartedly is a lie and I have been the one to perpetuate it? It’s the same as Santa and the Tooth Fairy. Will she hate me for lying? Or will she realize it was all out of love and the desire to allow her to feel that sense of wonder? 

I still have yet to come up with these answers because she still believes. I know this because I find little notes and wishes lying around occasionally when I’m cleaning her room. But we do not check the fairy house for notes daily, or even weekly, maybe once a month if that. She is growing up so fast and becoming occupied with other things. Exciting, important, grown up, big girl things. 

She is grown up enough for drop off parties and playdates and looks to me only seldomly if I do stick around for one of these. Grown up enough to make some of her own decisions, stand up for herself, and speak her mind. 

Even grown up enough to test the waters with talking back to her father and I. We are in completely foreign territory with this one, so I’ll be trouble shooting for a while I imagine. But on my better days I am able to step back and recognize it for what it is: another step towards independence. She is breaking away from us, learning to be her own person, even though she will always be ours. 

I’m not entirely sure how this happened, right in front of my face but without my knowing. The simple daily routines, so second nature I took them for granted, start to dissipate like morning dew. 

I used to read to her every night, and she would plead for one more book. Gradually as she learned to read the balance would shift. She would try reading to me instead, more and more as the days went on until suddenly she could read chapter books on her own and didn’t ask me to anymore.

I suspect many components of childhood will play out this way. Interests will shift and dwindle without anyone even realizing it. I will watch my children outgrow their favorite toys, games, hobbies, pastimes, and eventually their belief in magical things. It seems bittersweet to say the least. 

But we’re not quite there yet. The world still holds a bit of magic for her. Seeing it all through her eyes is the magic for me. And right now, we both need to believe for however much longer we can.